Holding Their Own VII
Chapter 1
Alpha, Texas
July 19
General Owens closed the Humvee’s door, the up-armored appendage weighing over 500 pounds and producing an audible thunk. After waiting for the driver to maneuver through the ever-growing traffic in downtown Alpha, he turned to the backseat and made eye contact with the Undersecretary of the Interior. “That didn’t go as I expected.”
“They’re just being stubborn; that’s all there is to it,” came the reply.
Marcus replayed the meeting’s high points, absentmindedly watching Alpha pass by the thick glass mounted in the door. Diana had been unyielding on even the smallest point, the rest of the Alliance’s Council sullen and quiet.
“They’re still stinging over losing two of their leading citizens,” the general commented. “I’m going to insist we open the next session with something other than a demand that they surrender Bishop.”
The general’s aide looked over, “Sir, do you believe their story? It seems a little farfetched that he’s no longer in their territory.”
“Yes… yes, I do believe them. Now mind you, I would imagine someone helped him escape, but we have enough eyes and ears on the ground to know if he shows himself in these parts. The leaders of the Alliance have to know that and wouldn’t mislead us.”
Shaking his head, the man from Interior spoke up, “I would have thought their leadership would have crumbled almost immediately, but clearly that is not the case. I seem to be having trouble relating to these people. Or maybe we’re just not giving it enough time.”
Owens digested the concept, eventually shaking his head. “I disagree. I think striking while momentum is on our side was the right move. My read on Diana is that she doesn’t believe our story about the massacre. The same with that big guy… Nick. They may never accept that their friend is a murderer.”
“So what do you propose, sir?”
Marcus didn’t hesitate. “If we are going to get this over quickly, working from the top down isn’t the right strategy. However, their leaders will listen to public opinion or be replaced. We need to stir up the fine citizens of West Texas – let them know we mean business.”
“And how do you purpose to do that, General?” The politician inquired from the back seat.
The officer grunted, a smirk crossing his face. “I may not be a world-class diplomat, but one thing is for certain - I am fully capable of delivering a message.”
Midland Station, Texas
July 20
The two Longbow Apache gunships resembled black, demonic wasps as they rocketed across the West Texas desert. That image was enhanced by their nose-down intent, slanted canopies, and hard points bristling with weapons. From an enemy’s perspective, the Longbow resonated with apocalyptic capability – the end was near.
A short, stubby wing extended from each side of the fuselage, both birds carrying a deadly mixture of Hydra rockets and Hellfire missiles. Capable of delivering more firepower than a WWII naval destroyer, the war birds were lethal hunters on any battlefield, day or night.
But it was the third helicopter that was to play the critical role today. Flying slightly lower and between its two heavily armed escorts, the small Kiowa transported neither missile, nor rocket. In fact, the tiny craft was unarmed.
Compared to the two gunships accompanying it, the scout appeared rather clumsy and benign. That misleading form was accented by the beach ball-shaped object mounted above the main rotor. Technically referred to as the MMSS, or Mast Mounted Sight System, the spherical protrusion was packed with observation and target-designation electronics.
In any weather or light, the Kiowa could dart behind ridges, tree lines, and hills, exposing only the small ball at the top of its mast to prying eyes, enemy pilots, and anti-aircraft gunners. Its role was to identify targets, designate them with a laser beam, and then call in the heavy firepower. It excelled at the job.
As the flight neared Midland Station, the two Apaches slowed, letting their smaller cousin take a considerable lead. Before long, the scout spotted the perfect hiding place and reduced its forward momentum considerably, eventually hovering behind a slight crest on the outskirts of the Alliance city.
Nick had ordered the seized convoy trucks driven to an empty warehouse on the edge of town. A few days after capturing the more than 20 trucks, the council had decided to unload any useful arms and ammunition, but to leave the non-perishable food and fuel untouched. The Alliance’s leaders believed the tons of cargo would eventually become a point of negotiation during the on-going deliberations with the US government.
The militia leadership didn’t like the decision, worried that the parking lot full of US Army transports was a temptation for the other side. They were right.